Thank You
by just call me Cappy
Summary: A phrase no one should ever forget, and the consequences that happen if you do ...


"THANK YOU"   
by Caprigrrl   
  
[Author's note: Fortunately, this is one of my original ideas, and not based on any other story or song, thank goodness. Oh yeah, Dumbledore does NOT celebrate his birthday and Slytherin rocks. Alrighty then. Here I go!]   
  
* * *   
  
Professer Snape surveyed the dimly-lit classroom (or else dungeon) quietly. The students sweated in the steam of boiling cauldrons, hard at work on their antidotes, dicing and mixing potion ingredients in ardent concentration.   
  
"Don't forget to tie up your strands of bogweed," Snape reminded, glaring at the students. "Seperated bogweed has no effect whatsoever."   
  
The Slytherins nodded without looking up and the Gryffindors muttered half-hearted replies. Snape went around and distributed shrivelly strands of dried bogweed, and each student accepted his or her share without as much as a nod.   
  
This caused Snape to frown. He was in a foul temper, and now it was even worse.   
  
"Longbottom!" he called, a disgusted sneer coming aboput his face. "Tell me: do you have the slightest idea on how to tie a simple knot?"   
  
Upon Neville Longbottom's desk was a tangle that look a lot like crumpled hag hair, or a ruined bird's nest. Apparently, he'd tried to tie a knot in every fold, but it all went horribly wrong. He whimpered and cringed in Snape's shadow.   
  
"Three points from Gryffindor due to this pathetic failure."   
  
A muffled groan came from the Gryffindor lot, silenced quickly by a glare from Snape. "Do you have any idea how important antidotes are?" he said. "Very, very important. Antidotes are, besides a few certain spells, the ONLY cure for poison, EVERY poison. And I know quite a few potent recipes. I may choose to use them, to see how effective your antidotes really are."   
  
... The silence that lingered afterwards was not encouraging.   
  
He picked up Neville's tangled mess and arranged it into a neat, gathered spray before slamming it onto the desk. "There," he said firmly, walking away.   
  
Silence came from Neville, causing Snape to groan under his breath. He sat at his desk at the head of the class, pretending to flip through a book of 'Potente Poisones', looking up occasionally to watch the silent students stir the bubbling liquid in their cauldrons. He wished he was in Defense Against Dark Arts. That would give him an excuse to hex them all.   
  
* * *   
  
He was simmering by lunchtime.   
A House-elf delivered some sort of bittersweet meat - Diricawl, he later discovered and spat out - to his office, decorated with fluffy cabbage trimmings. The drink was naturally pumpkin juice, gone bland and warm in his humid office. He stared at the meal as if it were corrosive.   
  
When the House-elf came along again to collect whatever was left-over, Snape pushed the plate towards it and said, "Take it. Share it with your friends or somewhat. I don't want it."   
  
The House-elf's large eyes gliterred at the sight of the meal. Elfs were rarely given such a delicacy. It took the plate and stared at it, cooing cutely as it walked out.   
  
Snape gritted his clenched teeth. He sipped the pumpkin juice, and it went sour in his mouth.   
  
* * *   
  
Potions, the next day:   
  
Snape's rage was steadily rising, like one of those slow, floaty bubbles in a Sleeping Potion. He'd broken three quills and one of his better cauldrons was developing a leak. In short, his bad day was getting worse.   
  
To make himself feel better, he decided to give a few points to his own House Slytherin. He scanned the room for a Slytherin to praise. Draco Malfoy was somewhat praiseworthy, who was his second best Potion student, next to Hermione Granger.   
  
He walked over to Draco Malfoy's table and announced, "Everyone! Take the example of Malfoy here. He has powdered the dried starfish neatly and does not waste ixora petals. Five points to Slytherin for this accomplishment."   
  
Malfoy smiled truimphantly, smugly, and straightened his back, raising his auger delicately as he mixed the starfish and petal. After the initial applause, the Slytherins went silent and returned to their work. The Gryffindors didn't take much notice.   
  
But Snape wasn't feeling as fine. He went over to the teacher's bathroom, cast a Silencing Charm upon himself and screamed like he had never screamed before, straightened himself, brushed off his robe, and walked out while the charm wore itself out.   
  
If you think Snape's acting weird now, wait a sec, 'cos it gets much weirder.   
  
* * *   
  
It was Dumbledore's birthday a few days later.   
  
Never thought it'd happen? It was now, and the occasion was grand. But nobody had been invited execpt the Hogwarts students and staff and ghosts, and the psychic rats that lived with Professer Trelawney.   
  
The Great Hall was decked with colourful streamers, fluttering fairies and gold and purple bubbles. A bee flew around with a banner tied to its stinger bearing the words, 'Have A Buzzing Good Time!' flashing pink and orange.   
  
The Great Hall had never been so decorated before. The Hogwarts staff had been planning everything secretly, poring over every single detail, down to the last hovering bauble. The ceiling was enchanted so that fireworks would explode silently over the starry night sky. And the Great Hall was off-limits for weeks. Dumbledore, in his curiousity, was smacked repeatedly by enchanted broomsticks on guard.   
  
The only person who didn't seem to be having quite a good time was Snape, who sulked in his seat. To his disgust, a few first-year Slytherins were mingling with the first-year Gryffindors, and didn't have their wands drawn. Gregory Goyle was blinfolded and trying to smack a floating pi~nata, cheered on by a bunch of Hufflepuffs. Even Draco Malfoy, his most favoured student, was busy romancing a giggling Ravenclaw girl.   
  
Professer McGonagall was in a hyper mood. Her cheeks were pinker than usual and she was constantly heading for the dancefloor. "C'mon, Sev, let's DANCE!' she said, snapping her fingers. Her usualy neat hair was askew and fluttering about in strands.   
  
Snape shuddered and looked away. He tried to imagine himself in a dance and the result wasn't very inspirational. "I don't dance - Where's Dumbledore?" he said, quickly changing the subject.   
  
"Trying to decide on his outfit. Oh, and saving the world from utter oblivion," McGonagall added soberly. She took a sip from her goblet and gave a huge grin. "Whoo! Who makes this stuff?!"   
  
"Actually, I did," Snape said smugly. "Golden Energy Elixir. Mixed with a pinch of dried Whizzbee sting. The official party drink."   
  
McGonagall didn't seem to be paying much attention, because she totally drained her goblet and leaped over the table, heading for the dancefloor. "Oh, amazing!" she said.   
  
Well, this was more than Snape could take. Forgetting to cast a Silencing Charm upon himself, he gripped his hair ...   
  
... and screamed.   
  
Well, it wasn't exactly a scream. That would be putting it mildly. A few Muggles several miles below had to be placed under Memory Charms when they were rudely awakened from sleep by "a sound that was like all the furies of Hell unleashed onto the world".   
  
All dancing stopped. The Elfen band that had been playing before were now hiding underneath their instruments. Every face in the room was turned towards Snape, eyes wide and dilated in shock. The banner-bee had dropped dead.   
  
Suddenly the doors burst open. "It's MEEE!" Dumbledore said, suddenly appearing. "Oh, how delightful!" he continued, staring at the fireworks, the streamers, the fairies and floaty bubbles. His eyes gleamed at the sight of the satck of presents, a few shooting out sparks and hovering in the air. But he turned back towards Snape. "Well come now, Severus. You look like you're going to burst any second. What's wrong?"   
  
"Doesn't anyone get it?!" Snape cried. "All this time you've all been prancing about your little lives in your conceited little ways and not even condsidering a small, teeny shred of gratitude!"   
  
"What d'you mean, Sev?" McGonagall beamed.   
  
"That's Snape, to you!" he replied. "I mean, everything I've done for everyone, everything I've contributed. I've sacrified TIME and ENERGY and RESOURCES and never even recieved the slightest 'Thank You' from ANYONE!"   
  
He was breathing heavily now. He looked more like a deranged vampire than ever, with strands of black hair hanging across his pale face and hands held like claws.   
  
"You could have told us," McGonagall suggested.   
  
"I don't need to remind anyone," he said. "'Thank You's come automatically. Execpt to THIS particular generation!" he hissed.   
  
"Is this about the Elixir?" McGonagall continued. "Cos' I thought it was pretty good."   
  
"Yes and no, Minerva. Nobody even thanked me for it, or anything ELSE for the past few days!"   
  
Dawn began to creep onto everyone's mind.   
  
"Well, then!" Dumbledore raised his wand and waved it around as if he were conducting an orchestra, and everyone chorused, "Thank you, Professer Snape!"   
  
The band started to play some congratulations jingle, but were stopped when Snape silenced them with a hand gesture. He smoothed back his hair and brushed down his robe, and, without looking up, muttered, "You're welcome."   
  
* * *   
  
Celebration continued as usual. Dumbledore clapped his hands and called, "Now for the cake!' and everyone gasped as the mountain of icing and cream and and decorated spongy-ness was wheeled into the room. Miniature, sugar-spun dragons held hundreds of birthday candles, each candle representing one student in Hogwarts.   
  
The band started to play 'Happy Birthday' and everyone started to sing along, congratulating Dumbledore, and complementing his rather odd choice of costume (Roman togas realy don't go with wizard hats).   
  
There was general excitement all around, and for the first time and only time in the year, differences were somehow lost and forgottom amidst the foam of Golden Elixir. Slytherins passed cookies to Gryffindors to Hufflepuffs to Ravenclaws alike without the slightest regret. Goyle had managed to bash the pi~nata open, and never threatened the Hufflepuffs for grabbing his sweets before he got the blindfold off.   
  
Not that Snape minded. in the darkness, hidden behind mountains of confetti and streamers, for the first time in his life, Snape smiled happily.   
  
- THE END -   
  
  
[Author's note: The moral of the story? Well, don't forget your P's and Q's, always send your teachers 'Thank You' cards and little gifts on the last day of school, and leave your review. Or something. Thank you.] 


End file.
